|05-19-2009, 04:10 PM|
Space Cadet and Aczabel
Join Date: Aug 2000
Location: Kansas City, Mo, USA
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New god theory...
Since Dickshrink posted a dumbass god thread I thought I'd throw this one out its at least good for a couple of couple of chuckles
Maxwell fled to the desert. He needed to be visited and this was, logically, the most likely way for it to happen. The desert provided mirages. The desert provided many mythical tests. Surely, the desert could provide an audience with God.
He sat in his Audi A4 Quattro waiting for epiphany to strike. He did what any good Philosophy Ph.D. would do -- he contemplated his existence. Finally he came to the conclusion that he did, in fact, exist, or else he wouldn't be feeling hungry. He took a bite of a formless Snickers bar that had melted in the glove compartment. "A Ph.D. in Philosophy," he thought while licking his chocolate-covered fingers. The entire concept was confusing and redundant. A Doctor of Philosophy degree in Philosophy -- philosophical mastery in the subject of the philosophical mastery of philosophical masters. His head began to throb. Sometimes thinking really sucked.
Maxwell had been teaching basic philosophy at UNLV. The entire basketball team was enrolled in his class -- it had supplanted Intro to Geology as the class taken to keep their grades up and their scholarships intact. So Rocks for Jocks was replaced by Thinkin' 'bout Drinkin' -- the name derived from the somewhat rudimentary discussions of Socrates and the hemlock. He assigned Plato's dialogues as readings; and this semester, as an in-class project, Maxwell created a dialogue between Socrates and himself, as to whether or not he should spend the extra money to buy the Audi, or just opt for a Dodge Neon, or something equally unimpressive. Socrates argued strongly for the vehicle with "comfort, speed, and nimble handling incorporating sporty driving characteristics in a luxurious package at an attractive price." And although the students usually didn't leave the class with a deeper understanding of sophistry or Socratic method, Maxwell had learned quite a bit from the athletes. Particularly their cock-sureness in the existence of God and their unflagging faith. All logic pointed to the contrary -- that no Great Creator existed; yet the overwhelming majority of the earth’s human denizens believed. And logic also dictated "where there's smoke, there's fire." So what the hell was he missing? He got out of the car to stretch his legs. He decided to wander a bit. Not recklessly, of course. He wouldn't allow himself to lose sight of the Audi.
"Here I am," he thought aloud. "I'm wandering in the desert. Like so many before me. Moses, Jesus, Mohammed. All desert wanderers." Desert wandering led him to revisit his theological thought processes. Why had no one been visited by God in so long? Biblically speaking, God had been quite a busybody from Genesis to Deuteronomy, and He was all over the place in the New Testament. Then He seemed to take a break for awhile and made a comeback in the Koran with a new look and a new name. And He really hadn't made a lot of public appearances since; claims by David Koresh, Jim Jones and Oral Roberts notwithstanding.
"Look at this freakin' place!" he shouted. No one was around for miles. "Of course, you're gonna give yourself an imaginary friend. And why not one with special powers? That's why God hasn't shown up. We've got now." He laughed derisively at no one in particular. "Does believe in God? Does he ever mention Him? Let us review the new Scripture of D.C. and Marvel Comics." He ranted with the zeal of a televangelist. He wiped the fast-accumulating perspiration from his forehead. The sun was beating down hard.
"Nietzsche was wrong," Maxwell preached. "God is not dead. He's alive and well in the vivid imagination our child-like populace."
Just then a flash of lightning struck the Audi.
Night fell. The car's battery was fried. His mobile phone was worthless; the digital network did not cover the desert. He decided to stay in the car until morning and then walk the five or so miles to the highway and flag down some help. He had brought enough water and candy bars to get him through the night and sustain him for the morning trek. He kept busy so as not to think about why the lightning had hit his car at that particular moment. The argument between Atheists and Theists wasn't limited to the existence of God; it also included the existence of Coincidence. In a random structure, things are bound to occur simultaneously. And sometimes these simultaneous random events will be randomly ironic. But in an ordered Creator-driven universe, every event is part of a grand scheme. His head started to throb again. He unwrapped another Snickers. He hoped the fresh sugar rush would help his headache. Just as others' faiths were tested in the desert, his lack of one was being scrutinized now.
Then the Light appeared.
Maxwell stared through the windshield at the flashing supernatural phenomenon. Without thinking (something he rarely failed to do), he ran out of the car to try to get inside the Light's ray. "Behold!" a voice boomed. "Am I what you seek?"
Maxwell froze. "But..." he managed to sputter, "it doesn't make sense."
The Light flickered a bit, as if puzzled. Then, "Who's to say what makes sense? What are you, a philosopher or something?"
Maxwell was taken aback by the casualness of the Light's last statement. "Um, as a matter of fact," he responded, "I am."
The Light flickered and snickered. "No shit? Usually the philosophers drive junkers. How'd you afford such a nice import? You got a real job on the side?"
Maxwell was speechless.
"That wasn't a rhetorical question, pal," the Light continued.
"Oh," Maxwell said, finally able to regain his voice. "I teach at UNLV."
"Full-time, I assume."
"Um, yes," Maxwell answered.
"I figured. Adjuncts make crap, don't they?"
"Um, yes," Maxwell answered obediently. He then bowed his head.
"Is my light too hard on your eyes?"
"Oh, no. I just thought I should be...oh, I don't know...reverential?"
"To each his own, I suppose," the Light said.
Maxwell rubbed his eyes. He pinched himself.
"What's your name, by the way?" the Light asked.
"You don't know?" Maxwell said.
"Have we met before?"
"I don't believe so."
"What do you think I am, a mind-reader?"
"My name is Maxwell."
"And you are...God?"
"Me? Hell no. I'm Jerry."
"Then you're not...the Almighty?"
"Nah. I never went in for that stuff. Now Ike on the other hand..."
"God of Abraham. He started it all. Quite an innovator."
"And then, of course, with every great work of innovation come the copycats. Although Judd, Alex and Buddy did make it their own."
"How can I explain this?" The Light flickered. "Okay. You know when a really good innovative, fresh movie comes out? What happens? You get a bunch of imitations, but only a handful live up to the original. You know what I mean?"
"Remember when Animal House came out. They made dozens of teen gross-out movies, but just about all of them sucked. The best of them was Porky's and that still paled in comparison."
"What does this have to do with God?" Maxwell sputtered.
Suddenly another great beam of Light appeared. It hovered above the car and flickered; then another Voice: "Jerry, is that you?"
"Fred?" Jerry asked.
"Yes," Fred flickered. "How're things?"
"Not bad. Not bad at all. We missed you at Roswell last month."
"Yes, I know. I got hung up in Tibet."
"Are you working with the Lamas?"
"Just observing. Danny's doing most of the work there now."
"Make sure to send him my regards."
Maxwell stood motionless while Fred and Jerry engaged in small talk.
"What brings you to these parts?" Jerry continued.
"Just on my way to Area 51; thought I'd have a little fun with the generals."
Maxwell cleared his throat.
"Oh, where are my manners?" Jerry flickered. "This is Maxwell."
"How do you do, Maxwell?" Fred said.
"Nice to meet you," Maxwell said weakly.
"Maxwell's a philosopher," Jerry offered.
"Really?" said Fred. "Such a nice car. Is that a rental?"
"Maxwell's a full professor at UNLV," Jerry explained.
"How nice. So that leaves your summers open for philosophizing, huh?"
Maxwell, newly emboldened, pressed the God issue. "Can we get back to the Animal House metaphor?"
"Great movie," Fred offered. "Just don't make 'em like that anymore."
Maxwell waited patiently while Fred and Jerry traded quotes from the movie.
"Anyway," Jerry said, finally returning to the point, "I was telling Maxwell about the Porky's Factor."
"Don't let me interrupt," Fred said.
"The Book of Ike," Jerry announced. He flickered a little and then, as if reciting scripture: "In the beginning, there were a lot of whiny humans. They'd bitch and moan about how meaningless their existence was, and wondered whether they had souls and if said souls were eternal. Ike decided to take pity upon the human and created God. He visited Abraham and told him that He was the Almighty Creator of the Universe. Abraham seemed to buy it hook, line and sinker. Ike then came up with the most ridiculous and cruel prank ever played upon a human. He convinced Abraham to cut off a portion of skin from his most prized body part -- and then to cut off that same portion from everyone residing in his village."
"I should mention," Fred interrupted, "that Ike is a loner who pretty much keeps to himself."
"Yes," Jerry concurred. "Ike is a rather antisocial being with a lot of issues. And jealous, too. The thing that really sets him off is that humans have such a wonderful sensory apparatus. The way they feel after a good meal, a good drink..."
"A good blow job," Fred added.
"Oh yes. Blow jobs especially. Anyway," Jerry picked up, "Ike was able to get his so-called 'chosen' people to give up just about everything they could derive pleasure from. And then the crème de la crème -- the Ten Commandments."
"Oh, that cruel bastard."
"But after a while -- I think it was during the forty years that Ike was continually giving Moses wrong directions to keep him lost in the desert -- Ike got bored with torturing this tribe of people and decided to retire from the God business."
"That's when the copycats came in," Fred offered.
"Yeah," Jerry said, "you'd get a bunch of guys pretending to be Ike, trying to get the humans to do some weird shit, but none of it had that Ike touch. You know what I mean?"
"Until Judd," Fred said.
"Judd?" Maxwell asked.
"Judd came up with the whole Christ concept," Jerry explained. "Planned it out very well -- took years coming up with the storyboard. A whisper in Mary's ear, a sign for each of the Magi. Get John the Baptist going, let it simmer for a while, then on to Jesus. Very intricate latticework. Tremendously plot-driven, too."
"Then Alex took it to a whole new level," Fred commented. "He reinvented God. Even gave him a new name. But after a while you could tell he just wasn't into it."
"Yeah," Jerry said. "Mohammed would ask Alex all these philosophical questions, until finally Alex just got tired and gave his pat response: Allah's will. After that, any hack with a Light and a Voice could get into the God biz. Any question that was posed: God's will."
"Just a disgrace," Fred said. "Total lack of originality. Like watching Porky's Revenge for a thousand years."
Maxwell held up his hand.
"Question, Max?" Jerry asked.
"Yes," Maxwell said. "If you're not God -- or Gods, as it were -- who are you? And where did you come from?"
"We just are," Fred answered. "We've always been here. We used to hang out in another solar system, but when that star started to collapse on itself, we came here. We pick a solar system, hang out until it becomes a black hole, and then latch onto another one."
"But where did you come from? Originally?"
"Don't know," Fred answered. "Don't really care, either."
"What does it matter," Jerry added. "We're not going anywhere. None of us has ever died; or been born either."
"But don't you ever wonder?" Maxwell asked.
"We don't die. We have no uncertainty. We don't need to wonder."
"Where do humans go when they die?" Maxwell asked.
"How should I know?" Jerry quipped. "What do I look like, the all-knowing, all-seeing great and powerful Oz?"
Fred snickered and flickered.
"So let me get this straight," Maxwell said defiantly. "You guys just came here from some distant galaxy, and out of boredom and/or jealousy, decided to screw with the entire human experience?"
"That sounds pretty accurate," Fred answered glibly.
"What about Jim Jones and David Koresh?" Maxwell fumed. "Were they part of your fun and games as well?"
"Koresh was Kenny's pet project and Jones was Victor's," Fred said.
"That Victor," Jerry said. "He thought he was a combination of Ike and Judd, when in reality he was more like Caddyshack 2 -- a bad sequel that just never should have been made."
Maxwell didn't know what to feel. These two obnoxious frat-boy aliens had contradicted every bit of logical thought that he'd ever had.
"Aren't you afraid that I'll expose you now?" Maxwell asked.
"Afraid? Hardly," Jerry scoffed.
"How long can you go around with absolutely no supporting evidence, promoting blasphemy?" Fred asked. "By the time anyone would take you seriously, you'll be long dead."
The two Lights flickered and snickered.
Defeated, Maxwell asked the only other question he could think of: "Can you at least fix my car?"
"Where the hell are we gonna get parts for an Audi at this time of night?"
And then the Lights disappeared in the desert sky.
Maxwell crawled into his car, curled up on the back seat and cried himself to sleep. When morning came, he woke up covered in chocolate. He set out on foot for the highway. His head ached. It was as if he'd been out on a drinking binge and was now feeling the effects of a nasty hangover. Had it all been a dream? Or a mirage? Was he yet another casualty of the desert? Or had he actually been visited? And if he had, it wasn't by God -- it was by a powerful alien race that came to Earth after escaping from a doomed solar system.
Just like .
|05-19-2009, 04:13 PM||#2|
Join Date: Apr 2006
Location: None of your business
Casino cash: $70063
My Message to President-Elect Donald Trump:
America did NOT became great because of what government did. America became great because of what the U.S. Constitution prevented our government from doing. The people made America great.
|05-19-2009, 04:17 PM||#3|
Join Date: Jan 2005
Casino cash: $17497
lol fick you thory oos your oos is no god lol im crying
|05-19-2009, 04:26 PM||#4|
The Seated Villain
Join Date: Apr 2007
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With a sack in 63.3% of his games, SB MVP Von Miller is the most consistent pass rusher in NFL history.
|05-19-2009, 04:50 PM||#8|
Join Date: Jul 2008
Location: Autosodomy NJ
Casino cash: $5000
|05-19-2009, 04:50 PM||#9|
Lookin' for the answers...
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Location: Somewhere else
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Alex Smith will be better than Geno or Cassel, Alex Smith will be better than Geno or Cassel, Alex Smith will be better than Geno or Cassel, Alex Smith will be better than Geno or Cassel...
|05-19-2009, 05:00 PM||#11|
Join Date: Jun 2005
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I just want to know why god needs a starship.
"Political correctness is a doctrine, fostered by a delusional, illogical minority, and rabidly promoted by an unscrupulous mainstream media, which holds forth the proposition that it is entirely possible to pick up a t*rd by the clean end"
|05-19-2009, 05:07 PM||#12|
Join Date: Mar 2005
Location: Flux,awaiting an observer
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No matter how cynical you are, it is impossible to keep up. -Lily Tomlin
I'd rather be a climbing monkey than a falling angel. -Terry Pratchett
|05-19-2009, 05:37 PM||#13|
A huge dick
Join Date: Apr 2002
Location: Where the hell is SNR
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I believe in Aaron Curry, who played for Wake Forest, and was the best player in the entire NFL Draft
I believe in his church of supporters, both on Chiefsplanet and in Seattle.
I believe in Scott Pioli, devil incarnate, who passed on him for the evil reach of Tyson Jackson.
I believe in the 2009-2010 NFL season, the Seattle Seahawks defense, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of doubtings against Aaron Curry, and the future of defense in the NFL. May he be merciful when he plays the Chiefs, and may he have sex with Mecca's mom.
We pray, Amen.
|05-20-2009, 01:12 PM||#14|
Gonzo = Sexy Bitch
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Only God himself would have the patience to read through that. Mix in an edit here and there. Tolstoy thinks it's too long.